Storm Clouds Rolling In (26 page)

Robert leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, grateful for a chance to unwind and relax.
An axle had broken on his carriage on the way to the station. Manson had barely gotten him there in time to catch his train. He would have to send a letter of appreciation to the man who had stopped and helped him repair his axle. For now, he would get some much-needed rest.

“Robert Borden!”

Robert contemplated feigning a deep sleep. He had no desire to be bothered. He opened his eyes a mere slit to identify his intruder. “Matthew Justin!” All thoughts of sleep fled his mind as he jumped up and pumped the other man’s hand. “What in the world are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question, old boy.
The last I saw you, you were still a student in Philadelphia. I take it you finished?”

“Yes.
They actually let me out of the place with a degree.” Robert laughed, deciding not to tell him he had left with three classes to complete because of the rising tension. “I’m at home on my plantation in Virginia now. And what about you?” he asked. “Was some paper actually crazy enough to let you go to work for them?”

Matthew nodded, his long red hair bouncing off his shoulders as wildly as before.
His bright blue eyes shone with excitement. “The editor of the
Philadelphia Inquirer
actually decided to give me a go at it. I’ve been there almost two years now.”

Robert grinned at his old friend.
He looked just like he always had—the angular face softened by a boyish grin, and the tall, muscular body that spoke of his farm heritage in the mountains of western Virginia. “I always knew you would make it.”

Matthew shrugged.
“I had to make it. There was no way I was going back to working in the tobacco fields. My father loves it, but my heart was never in it. Journalism…” His voice almost caressed the word. “I love it as much as I thought I would.” He paused. “Are you glad to be home, again?”

Robert nodded.
“There is no place on earth like Oak Meadows. I have a lot of plans to expand the plantation.”

“Does that have something to do with where you’re headed now?”

Robert shook his head. “Not a thing. I’m headed to Charleston for the Democratic Convention.”

“Really?
Why? What draws you there?” Matthew was openly surprised.

Robert shrugged and smiled.
“If my heart wasn’t tied to Oak Meadows I might have followed my interest in politics. I’ve made my choice and I’m happy with it, but I still have a yearning to be in the center of things. At least enough to watch what happens.” His tone grew suddenly serious. “I think this convention may be the most important one our country has seen. A lot is resting on in.” He frowned and then looked at his friend. “What about you? Where are you headed?”

“Charleston,” Matthew said with a grin.
“Looks like we’re going to relive some of those wild times we had in college. Besides being very important politically, I can guarantee you it’s going to be one big party down there. When I’m not working,” he hastened to add. “I’m going to be covering the convention for my newspaper, along with some other guys who are in the other car probably wondering if I fell off the train somewhere.”

“Let them wonder.”
Robert moved his hat and coat to make room for his friend.

Matthew nodded and sat down.
“They’ll come looking for me if they get really worried. We have a lot to catch up on.”              

The first few hours passed quickly as they relived old memories of college days.
Laughter rang freely between the two friends. Robert was thrilled to have run into Matthew. They had been suitemates for his first two years of college. When Matthew had graduated, they lost touch, but Robert had never stopped thinking about him. There were many times he had missed his friend’s quiet understanding, mountain-grown wisdom, and common sense. As they sat at their table in the dinner car now, the conversation grew more serious.

“So, Robert, are you still a radical Democrat?” Matthew asked with a smile.
Robert didn’t answer immediately and the long pause caused Matthew to lean forward and look at him more closely. The silence stretched between them.

Finally, Robert answered.
“I don’t want to appear wishy-washy by not standing solidly somewhere, old friend, but at the risk of appearing that way, I have to admit I have some grave questions about my party. I never thought I would find myself feeling that way, but...” He shrugged his broad shoulders.

Matthew peered at him intently.
“What has brought about this change?”

“All this wild talk of secession.
From what I can tell, men on both sides are caught in the throes of passion. They are exchanging their reason for the passions of their heart. That can only mean trouble.” Edmund Ruffin stood clearly in his thoughts. “I just spent an evening talking with a new friend. The man’s name is Thomas Cromwell. He’s a sensible man. I had heard much about him before I sought him out. He also is afraid the country is headed for big trouble, and is certain there will be war if the country splits. Cromwell was once a strong supporter and participant in the Whig Party, though he now aligns himself with the Democrats since the Whigs lost their political power. He is a strong Union man. I found him fascinating to talk to and took heart that there are still reasonable men to be found in the South.” The thoughtful look on his face deepened. “There must be a way to heal the split trying to force this country apart.”

Matthew sat silently.
“There are extremists on both sides, Robert. How familiar are you with the Republican Party?”

“The Black Republicans?”

Matthew laughed. “Familiar enough, I take it.”

Robert shrugged.
“I know that everything my life is based on will be destroyed if the Republicans gain the presidency.”

“Meaning slavery.”
It wasn’t a question.

Robert nodded, suddenly realizing he had no idea where his friend stood on the issue.
Suddenly he didn’t want to know. He valued him as a friend too much. He wanted to enjoy their time together, not fight over the slavery issue. He was sure there would be plenty of opportunity for that in Charleston. “So tell me, Matthew. What’s it going to be like in Charleston when we get there?”

Matthew let him change the subject and they continued to talk as the train rolled southward.

Robert gazed around at the chaos surrounding him. The Charleston train station was a madhouse.

“They’re expecting at least
four thousand visitors for the convention.” Matthew had to shout to make himself heard over the din of the milling crowd. In the distance, they could hear a band playing. The clatter of carriage wheels on the cobblestone streets only added to the cacophony of sounds assaulting them from every direction.

Robert was intrigued.
He had become accustomed to such madness during his years in Philadelphia. He had long wanted to visit Charleston and planned to make the most of this experience. He found himself wishing briefly that Carrie could be with him. He sensed she would love the stimulation of this atmosphere. Soon though, his attention was drawn by the men milling around him. There were delegates here from every state. Robert could almost pick them out from the hundreds of mere spectators descending on the city for what was certain to be a show. Politicians seemed to wear the mark of constantly being in the public eye. There were cold-eyed men who looked like professional gamblers—slicked-back hair topped eyes that glittered with the opportunities they hoped to find here. Everywhere there were stout, perspiring men dressed in solid black. Fine linen clothing, topped by stovepipe hats, spoke of their pompous self-importance. They leaned on their gold-headed canes, and carried on intense, whispered conversation with other men identical to themselves.

Robert felt a tug on his sleeve.
“Let’s get a carriage and get out of this madness,” Matthew shouted.

Robert nodded, making no attempt to shout over the noise.
He reached down, grabbed his bag, and followed his friend through the crowd. It wasn’t much quieter by the street, but at least he didn’t have to shout to make himself heard. “I’m assuming you have reservations in the city?”

“At some hotel in the middle of this madness.
We have to be in the center of the action. Our editor would have a fit if we missed anything. What about you, old man? You manage to find a place to stay?”

Robert nodded.
“I made reservations months ago. I wasn’t going to miss this. I have a room at the Planters Hotel.”

Matthew whistled, suitably impressed.
“They sure didn’t put us up in accommodations like those, I assure you. My editor told me to be thankful if I found a mattress on the floor.”

Robert laughed.
“You said you have to be in the center of things. Does that also mean you have to stay with the rest of your team of reporters?”

Matthew thought a moment.
“I don’t think it really matters where I stay,” he said thoughtfully. “Not that I’ll get much chance to lay down anyway,” he added, laughing.

Robert nodded.
“Then there is no reason you should not stay with me,” he said firmly. “I have plenty of room and I would welcome the company.” He was thrilled when Matthew enthusiastically agreed. He was glad to have reconnected with his old friend and he knew he might never find him again in this madhouse if they separated.

Matthew’s attention was suddenly distracted.
“The guys are waving me over.” Within moments, Robert found himself in possession of Matthew’s bags with a promise his friend would meet him for dinner in the hotel’s restaurant.

After settling himself in the elegant hotel that was the meeting place for Charleston gentry, Robert set out to explore the city, turning down several offers from eager carriage drivers.
He wanted to walk. The charm of the city captured him instantly. Evidence of a strong Huguenot tradition was reflected in its almost French appearance. Other parts looked as if they sprang straight from Georgian England. The mix was captivating.

Robert walked slowly through streets dominated by a myriad of slim, white church steeples.
Richmond had its fair share of churches as well, but with Charleston’s land and houses being so close to sea level, they seemed to be even taller and more elegant. The shops were quaint, and long rows of pastel dwellings boasted gateways and railings of delicate iron filigree. Everywhere were mansions with long piazzas and slim, white pillars. Robert was enchanted by occasional glimpses into the shaded, flower-strewn courtyards protected within their confines. Palmettos and live oaks dripping with Spanish moss lent an otherworldly air to the city.

Robert took deep breaths of the salt-laden air of the bustling port town as he strolled toward the Battery.
Twisted live oaks provided a backdrop of beauty for the riotous flowers that splashed their colors onto the warm spring canvas. Carriages, carrying well-dressed Charlestonians with a distinctively disdainful air, clattered leisurely through the cobblestone streets. Elegantly dressed ladies sauntered along, eager not to miss any of the excitement descending on their town.

Robert’s
steps finally led him seaward. The gently lapping waters mesmerized him with their rhythmic motion. The very sameness with which they had caressed these shores for thousands of years was a fitting backdrop for this southern city. Just as he had been told, Charleston was, in every way, the past incarnate, forcing time to stand still and carefully preserving a cherished way of life that had a fragile and immutable pattern. It would listen to no demand for change and expected everyone who called it home to resist any change, to beat down anything that would even look like a concession to change. In the short time he had been here, he sensed the city was full of those eager to respond.

He stood quietly and allowed the lure of the water to sweep over him.
A soft breeze filled his nostrils with the salty air and ruffled his hair. Once again he found himself thinking of Carrie. He stared almost unseeingly at Castle Pinckney on its low island and could barely make out unfinished Fort Sumter in the distance, where a few workmen unhurriedly put together bricks and stones in deep casements. None of it was of any interest to him. His mind was full of a vibrant girl with emerald-green eyes.